


come go with me

by theheartsclub



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Fluff, Frat Boy Bill, M/M, Reddie, Stenbrough, background reddie, soft bill, stozier friendship, two precious boys fall for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 17:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14360484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheartsclub/pseuds/theheartsclub
Summary: Stan holds a particular distaste for the Greek life and all that revolves around it. That is, until he gets dragged to a fraternity party and meets one frat boy who he doesn't exactly find to be distasteful at all. In fact, he might just be The Most Beautiful Boy Stan has ever met.





	come go with me

**Author's Note:**

> i wouldn't have been able to write this without my lovely friend mikhayla (@lovesickbill on twitter) helping me with ideas so endless thanks to her

“Staniel,” Richie whines, swinging his foot over just so it barely brushes Stan’s head. To which Stan responds by shoving his leg away, nearly knocking Richie off of the bed that he was currently hanging upside down off the side of. “You have to come with me.”

“No,” Stan states firmly, glancing to Richie with a look of disgust. “And could you get up? You look like a fucking toddler.”

Much to the surprise of anyone who knew him, Richie actually obeys. Well, sort of. Laying upside down off the side of the bed was traded for him somersaulting onto the floor, landing in a heap of limbs before he readjusted to a seated position. Criss-cross applesauce he still called it, but he wasn’t about to add that right after Stan called him a toddler.

“You should really go out for drama next semester, you know,” he hums, trying to match Stan’s expression of disgust. “Amazing, really. You’ve got the look down and everything.”

Stan rolls his eyes. “You’re not helping your case, Tozier. I hope you know that.”

“Oh, I know,” he replies, but the suspicious confidence was seeping through his tone. “But I also know that you will be coming to this party with me tonight, because I know that you’re currently failing Advanced Calculus, and I took it in high school. Correction: I passed with flying colors in high school. If you come with me, I’ll tutor you for the rest of the semester. No further payment required. Not even owesies.”

This was against Stan’s better judgement. They were bound to get home late, and he had a class across campus at nine the next morning, but Richie made a compelling offer. He sighs. “Fine. I’ll come to your stupid party. But if I don’t get at least an A minus on the final we are no longer friends, or roommates. I will start printing the ‘New Roommate Wanted’ flyers before you even have time to pack your things.”

Richie grins. “What did I say? The drama department is calling your name.” He left it at that for the teasing because he knew better than anyone that Stan could retract his agreement just as quickly as he gave it. “You have my eternal thanks. Besides, you might actually have fun. I know that might be a foreign concept to you, so I’ll go slowly. Try to follow along. It’s Bill Denbrough’s party, and I heard he does it better than anyone. Who knows, maybe he’ll think you’re cute and you’ll find yourself a lover. Could use to get laid, you know.”

“I’m not interested in casual sex with some frat boy, but thanks for the offer,” Stan says, choosing to ignore both Richie’s former and latter comments. He’s learned to pick his battles.

Richie only shrugs; his smile doesn’t fade much. “Suit yourself, Stanny. In this economy, I’ll take what I can get.”

**_____________________________**

When the two boys arrive at the party, it seems to be at its peak. There are drunk students and not alike in every corner, a few stragglers spilling out onto the front lawn. Stan can already tell that this is going to be far from something he will consider a great night. But looking over to Richie, seeing how bright and excited he looks, Stan softens a little. He was a pain in the ass at times, but for whatever reason, Stan has always had this soft spot for him.

It was mere minutes before Richie found something that distracted him for long enough that he wandered off, leaving Stan to find something to occupy himself for the next few hours.

He wasn’t really in the mood to talk to anyone that was here, and being Richie’s designated driver for the night meant drinking was out of the equation. This was what landed him sat alone on a couch not even a full hour into his time there, just observing his surroundings as he privately hoped that he wouldn’t get stuck with a particularly handsy couple beside him.

People were dancing. Lots of them. Stan was sure Richie was somewhere in that mix, looking something like what an alien might do as an impression of a human being trying to dance, but he wasn’t about to try and look for him. Instead, his focus landed on a particularly beautiful boy who was dancing his way through the crowd.

Beautiful Boy quickly turned into The Most Beautiful Boy the longer that Stan watched him. The way he moved so freely, yet so elegantly, which seemed pretty damn difficult to do with the blaring noise that could be barely defined as music coming through the speakers all around them. Yet, he was pulling it off.

Stan was perfectly content watching The Most Beautiful Boy dance for the rest of the night, but suddenly he stopped. He was walking somewhere now, and holy shit, he was walking directly to the couch that Stan was currently sat on.

“What’s your name?” the boy shouts over the music, but Stan could barely make out any word coming from his mouth. It was a pretty mouth, though.

“I can’t hear you. Too loud,” he shouts in reply, lifting a hand to his ear to show what he meant just in case the likely scenario occurred where he couldn’t be heard either.

The boy nods, thankfully seeming to understand the message being communicated and waves for Stan to follow him. Cautiously, he did as instructed, following the boy through the crowd and into the kitchen. The smaller room was a bit quieter, and had significantly less people. Stan found this to be a blessing.

“Bill Denbrough,” the boy introduces himself, offering a warm smile. “And you are?”

Bill Denbrough. Stan knew that name, and from more than Richie’s brief mention of him earlier that day. Bill’s name was a household one on this campus. He had a reputation, to say the least. Your classic frat boy. Raging parties, everyone wanted to be his friend and no one wanted to be his enemy, his pick of any suitors he desired. And boy did he pick, according to the rumors circling. Not exactly what would be described as Stan’s dream person. In fact, he possessed a preconceived opinion of Bill prior to this meeting. One that declared him careless, messy, and gross. All things that Stan despised. All things that the beautiful boy stood before him did not appear to be at all.

“Stan,” he replies, before quickly correcting his response to mirror Bill’s. “Uh- Stanley Uris. But, most people just call me Stan.”

Bill’s smile remains, maybe even grows a bit. “Alright, Stan. Not to be gross or anything, I’m not usually this forward, but you happen to be the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. And I’ve met a lot of pretty people.”

It wasn’t easy to catch Stanley Uris off guard. He considered himself a pretty grounded person, someone that took a lot to render speechless. But right there, in that moment, he couldn’t find the words to provide Bill with some sort of response.

It was natural for Stan to put on this sort of front in situations like this. He liked his hard exterior; it was comforting. If he held a serious expression then no one would bother him. Even the drunkest didn’t try much with him. For all that, Bill Denbrough somehow managed to crack those walls in a matter of seconds.

Stan quickly regains his composure, shoving his hands in his pockets as he takes a deep breath. It was important to remember that this didn’t have to mean anything. For all he knew, this could just be mindless drunk flirting. It happened all the time. Even Richie, who he knew had his heart planted in one true place for years of pining after the same kid, would be draped over the nearest person he could get his hands on after just a couple shots. As much as he tried to hide it, even in the low lighting the warm pink that tinted Stan’s cheeks couldn’t go unnoticed.

“I- Thank you,” Stan replies, hoping to any sort of higher power that the raised pitch of his voice slips under the radar.

It doesn’t, but Bill thinks it’s cute, so he doesn’t say anything about it. “Do you want a drink? I feel bad I haven’t seen you have anything.”

Stan feels his cheeks burn hotter at the thought that Bill might have been watching him too. “I’m good, actually. Thank you. I’m here with my friend, and I’m his ride home.”

Bill nods. “Alright, well, what are you in the mood for? No offense, but you look sort of miserable, and I would be a poor host if I let my guests remain unhappy.”

Stan shrugs. He didn’t realize he was being so transparent. “Sorry. It’s not the party, I’m sure it’s great if you’re into that sort of thing. It’s just not really my scene. I would much rather be at home right now, but I can’t exactly abandon my friend. I’m sure he would find his way home, but I can’t guarantee that it would be in one piece. Then I would have to find a new roommate and it would be a whole thing. Probably just easier for me to stay here until he’s worn himself out.”

Bill can’t help but smile as Stan rambles on. “Let me take you out then.”

“I can’t, I have-”

Bill holds up a hand. “Who’s your friend?”

“Richie Tozier,” Stan answers, not quite buying that Bill would actually know everyone at this party.

Bill laughs. “You’re friends with Richie?” he asks, disbelief in his tone.

Normally, Stan would respond defensively, but Bill’s reaction was one he got often to that statement. “The Odd Couple, I know.”

“A couple?” For the first time that night, Bill’s smile faltered.

Stan was quick to shake his head, a small laugh following just to lighten the suddenly subdued mood. “No, no. Absolutely not. I meant like the T.V. show, The Odd Couple. Richie is my friend, and my roommate. There is no romance or anything in between at all. Just friends.”  
Bill nods, the relief flowing over his expression suddenly. “Never saw the show.”

“Situational comedy from the seventies,” Stan explains. “Two divorced men live together in New York City. They’re complete opposites, but find a way to click with each other. No romance between them at any point.”

“Maybe you can show me sometime.”

Okay, that was smooth. Stan would love to do that, he would love to do a lot of things with Bill, but he wasn’t sure he wanted Bill to know that just yet.

“Maybe I can.” He goes with the vague response. Usually a solid choice.

“Anyway, before then, I still want to take you out,” Bill adds. “I’ll find Richie a ride home. You won’t even have to worry.”

Stan glances to his watch. “It’s late,” he observes. He can’t be sure why he seems to be looking for reasons not to go out with Bill. Luckily, Bill is persistent.

“My favorite place is open until three. But if you would really rather stick around here, that’s okay too.”

Stan shakes his head. “No, that’s great. I would love to go.” He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Stan isn’t typically the type of person to leave a party with some guy he only just met to go to some mysterious location that’s open until three in the morning, but there’s something about Bill. He’s so cute and inexplicably sweet that Stan can’t bring himself to decline. Maybe it’s shitty of him to abandon Richie, but he’s confident that it’ll more than likely go uncared for. Besides, Richie’s always telling him to get himself a cute boy, and Bill happens to be a boy who is really, really cute.

**_____________________________**

The walk out to Stan’s car is quiet except for the muffled music leaking from the house now behind him, but it’s a comforting silence. The kind where something could be said, but they didn’t feel like speaking was an obligation.

Stan lifts the keys from Bill’s reach as he grabs for them. “I’m not letting you drive my car, Bill.”

Bill mocks offense. “I’m an incredibly skilled driver, I swear. You can’t blame a guy for wanting to show a cute boy the tricks he’s got up his sleeve.”

Being referred to as cute brings back Stan’s blush, but he stands his ground. “Now I’m definitely not letting you drive. You’re drunk, and the word tricks is unsettling for a driver to be using.”

“I’m not drunk. I had two beers!” Bill argues, and Stan believes him. To be fair, he really didn’t seem all that drunk, just a little tipsy. Which was a relief, because Stan’s heart hadn’t stopped beating a hundred miles an hour just from standing in a kitchen talking to Bill, so he really hoped that it was something more than just drunken flirting. It sounded stupid, but it really felt like something could come out of this. Maybe that was just wishful thinking. Then again, maybe it wasn’t.

“Passenger seat, Denbrough. My car, I’m driving,” Stan states, and Bill complies with no further argument. This is a much different reaction than the one he’s used to with Richie. Yet another reason why Bill felt special.

It was mere moments since starting the car that Bill had his hands on the radio controls, switching through until he landed on some oldies station. Stan could easily tell it was his favorite by the way he immediately began to sing along, adding in loving gestures to Stan in every possible romantic part of a song. Which was making it increasingly more difficult to keep this cool, collected image of his up.

Stan eventually finds himself smiling, getting completely lost in the moment and letting his exterior soften for a moment. It was only after he catches himself with that warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest every time he looks at Bill that he quickly straightens up, shoving the soft smile back down. “I need to focus on the road.”

Bill giggles, and Stan glances at him for a moment. “What’s so funny, Denbrough?”

“You’re cute, you know,” Bill replies with ease, shrugging his shoulders. “When you get all serious and sophisticated like that.”

That earns Bill a small crack in Stan’s hard expression, and this is the first, but far from the last time that Bill realizes that Stan’s false serious face is the cutest shit he’s ever seen in his life. Especially when he learns that he can easily break it back down to softness.

**______________________________**

Bill directs them to an old diner just a few miles off of campus, and Stan is almost disappointed that the car ride has come to an end. That is until Bill rushes out of the car as soon as they park, over to Stan’s door just to open it for him.

Stan can’t hold back a laugh, shaking his head fondly. “Thanks. You’re a weirdo, but a sweet one.” He considers himself to be rather self sufficient, so typically his response would be insulted that someone felt like he wasn’t capable of opening his own door, but something about Bill doing that brought that warmth in his chest back and he couldn’t complain.

Bill only grins, leading the way to the entrance of the restaurant. It’s rather quiet this time of the night, only a few people here and there, and Stan thinks this is probably why Bill likes it so much. It’s peaceful, but not lonely.

When they’re seated in a booth in the far corner of the diner Bill speaks again. “So, what are you in the mood for?” But before Stan has the opportunity to answer, he comes up with one of his own. “Not to sway you or anything, but they pretty much have the best fries in the world here. Would you happen to be open to sharing a big plate of fries with me, Stan? I couldn’t possibly finish them all on my own.”

“I happen to love that idea, Bill,” Stan replies, a soft laugh following.

So that’s exactly what they order, Bill making sure the waitress knows that they want the most fries possible. She looks tired, but promises him she’ll do what she can. He begins to order a Cherry Coke, but Stan interjects.

“Two waters, please.”

Bill pouts, and Stan brings back his favorite serious look. “I don’t want you to feel bad in the morning. I’m only looking out for you.”

That makes Bill smile a little bit, before attempting to pull a serious face of his own.

“Wow, are you making fun of me?” Stan asks, clearly unimpressed. Except, he is impressed. Just a little bit.

Bill shakes his head, a smile breaking through. “No, not making fun, just teasing. There’s a difference.”

And for some unknown reason, that makes Stan crumple down to complete softness again. The pink glow returns to his cheeks, and his dimples appear as his smile begins to grow.

Bill just leans back in his seat, sipping on his water as he thinks of nothing but how badly he wants to shower Stan in kisses right there in the back of this diner. Except, he doesn’t. Not yet.

Instead, they sit and talk for what Stan could’ve sworn wasn’t more than thirty minutes, before the waitress comes back to tell them that they’ve got to leave soon. Stan glances at his watch. It reads 2:55 am. They’ve been here for hours.

At that point, Stan wasn’t even thinking about the time. Not the nine o’clock class he has in the morning, or in a few hours rather. Not how Richie managed to get himself home. His thoughts were solely consumed with Bill’s smile, and his bright blue eyes, and the way that whenever Stan would say something even remotely humorous he would laugh with his whole body, leaning into the wall beside him for support.

Stan never considered himself a particularly romantic person. He wasn’t Ben, who Richie said probably jerks off to When Harry Met Sally. That certainly wasn’t an image he wanted right now. He definitely wasn’t someone who believed in love at first sight, or first date even. Was that what this was? A date? Even so, he wasn’t stupid. Stan knew that what he was feeling with Bill right then and there was far from nothing. Was it love? Definitely not. But he sure as hell knew that he was falling at a hundred miles an hour for this stupid frat boy, and he couldn’t even bring himself to complain about it.

**_____________________________**

The two are quick to finish their (now cold) fries before making their way out. Bill picks up the check with surprisingly little argument from Stan, because he noticed that little things like that make Bill happy. Stan decides that he likes making Bill happy.

The car ride back to Bill’s place seems to go by far too quick once again, but Stan is struck with concern when Bill doesn’t move to leave the car. “Are you feeling alright? You want aspirin or something?” he asks, his tone soft as he gently puts a hand on Bill’s arm.

Bill shakes his head, but his gaze doesn’t meet Stan’s just yet. “No, I’m fine. Just, something feels different.”

Stan doesn’t really know how to respond to that, or even how to feel, so he just remains silent and lets Bill speak again.

“I just, I d-don’t know. I’ve been with a lot of p-people. Well, n-not a lot. I’m s-sure you’ve heard some things that are a b-bit of a st-stretch from the truth. But still, out of everyone I’ve been with, r-regardless of how long or how short, it’s never felt like this before. N-not so fast, or even at all for that m-matter. I don’t know what it means, not yet anyway, but I know that I feel s-something special with you, Stan. S-something I’m not ready to let go of j-just yet.”

Bill hasn’t stuttered since around halfway through high school, but sometimes it came back for short periods of time. Usually when he was nervous or scared. Becoming acutely aware of it made his face burn hot. Stan thought it was cute.

It was the feeling that everything Bill just said gave him that made Stan, against his better judgement, lean in over the center console and press his lips to Bill’s.

Stan’s hand is resting on Bill’s cheek as they both settle into the soft kiss, and he knows his face is probably bright pink at the moment, but it’s comforting to feel the warmth of Bill’s cheek rise as well. His heart is slamming against his ribcage in a way that could probably be considered unhealthy, but he can’t quite bring himself to care at the moment.

Bill is feeling the exact same way, half expecting his heart to beat right out of his chest any minute now. Except, he wasn’t even thinking about that, because the only thoughts in his mind were ones revolving around the fact that Stan’s lips felt like they were always meant to be on his.

A minute or so went by before the two finally separated. Apparently, the kiss was a major confidence boost for Stan, because as soon as Bill reaches for the door handle he grabs his arm. “Come home with me.”

Bill immediately melts into the touch, sinking back into his seat as he drops his hand back down to his lap. “Yeah? Okay.”

Somehow they both know that this wasn’t an invitation for sex, because the kiss they just shared wasn’t of that sort. It was gentle and soft, matching the overall feelings exchanged of pure blissful adoration. And what wonderful feelings they were.

**_______________________________**

When they pull into the driveway of Stan and Richie’s shared home, there’s another car parked there. It didn’t look like one he recognized, so Richie’s ride home must’ve decided they wanted to be a little more than just that.

Normally, that would make Stan nervous, bringing Bill back to hear and maybe even see more than he signed up for. Except, all the lights were off inside, and knowing drunk Richie, he probably crashed around an hour ago.

They stay quiet walking through the doorway, and did a great job of it until Bill trips over the pair of boots that Richie must’ve left lying in the doorway and burst out in a fit of laughter. Stan can’t help but join him in laughing until he sees Richie’s light turn on, and he’s quick to shove a still helplessly giggling Bill into his bedroom. He definitely isn’t in the mood to hear Richie talk about how he’s “gonna get it in” tonight when he would much rather be curled up to the sweet, cute boy he’s somehow persuaded into coming home with him. So Stan just tells Richie that he was out visiting some friends and shuts the door behind him before he can be faced with any further questioning.

Stan is instantly embarrassed when he notices the few stray pieces of clothing on his floor, quickly picking them up and tossing them in the hamper. He doesn’t notice until he turns around again that Bill had been looking at the organized array of small knick knacks he had placed across his corner shelf.

Bill analyses each and every thing on there, thinking of nothing but how absolutely adorable it all is. He never would’ve assumed that Stan was so into birds, but now that he sees the evidence it makes a lot of sense. It suits him.

Stan just smiles as he watches Bill for a moment before he finishes picking up, taking a seat on the side of his bed. “You like them?”

“Love them,” Bill answers as he turns back to face Stan, a gentle smile painted across his expression.

Stan is hardly even nervous, which is abnormal for him. Typically, situations like this would make him anxious, but there’s something about Bill. Something that makes him feel so safe. So it’s nothing but natural when they crawl into the neatly made bed, intertwining their bodies together until they’re just about as close as they can get.

They talk for a while, exchanging the occasional series of soft kisses, but nothing particularly intense. Stan is confident that Bill shares the feeling that this is something special. Something worth waiting for.

**______________________________**

Once morning arrives, Stan oversleeps, which is quite the rare occurrence. Any thought of his nine am had been abandoned somewhere in the nighttime. Bill takes it upon himself to head into the kitchen for some water, which is when he runs into Richie, who was situated at the kitchen table eating his cereal. It's Raisin Bran, Bill observes, which he thinks is fucking weird until he spots the sugar poured over the top. Even weirder, but much more Richie. Bill opens his mouth to greet him, but Richie's falls agape first, and with the clattering of a metal spoon hitting the ground, Richie is already on his way upstairs to bug Stan for every possible detail of the night before. Bill decides the kitchen is the safest place for him at the moment and stays put.

“Visiting some friends?” Richie questions, his grin wide and mischievous as he flops his body down beside Stan’s in bed. “Didn’t know you and Bill Denbrough were such good friends. I also didn’t know visiting friends also included bringing them home for a sleepover.”

Stan pulls the comforter over his head as he rolls over, a groan escaping him. “You brought someone home. I saw the car in the driveway.”

“Yeah, I know,” Richie replies, and Stan already starts thinking up different ways to end his own life. “Eds is a real great rider, you know. Both in the car and in the sheets.”

Another groan from Stan. This one was accompanied by a punch in the shoulder. “You’re disgusting, and that joke was horrendous.”

“Hey, I’m not the only sinner in this house. Not anymore, at least.”

Stan shakes his head. “You see, that’s where you’re wrong. We didn’t do anything more than kiss last night.”

Richie gasps. “Details. All of them. I want an exact play by play of last night’s events, and I want it now.”

“You’re insufferable,” Stan mutters, but provides Richie with the details he requested.

**_____________________________**

In the kitchen, Bill takes it upon himself to find the materials required for pancakes. He’s halfway through mixing the batter when he hears footsteps approaching behind him. Smiling, he turns around, only to see that either Stan shrunk five inches overnight and made a trip to the hair salon, or he was currently faced with a bed-headed Eddie Kaspbrak. Him and Eddie had known each other since freshman year, where they were roommates for the first semester, before Bill decided a fraternity would be better suited for him. That didn’t mean they stopped being friends. The two were rather close. Even while leading quite different lives, they managed to keep up quite often. This was just an odd meeting place.

“Oh, shit. Hey,” Eddie greets, crimson already gracing his cheeks quite fully.

“Did you?”

“Bill!” Eddie gasps. “Jesus, not even a good morning from you.”

“So you did,” Bill concludes, a grin creeping onto his expression. Eddie nods.

“Nice. Knew it was gonna happen sometime,” he adds, raising his hands in defense as Eddie looked ready to reprimand him again. “You knew it too.”

Eddie nods again, a bit more defeated this time. “And you? With him?”

Bill shakes his head. “No. Well, sort of. We just kissed, really. Wonderful, though. Unworldly.”

Eddie smiles, joining Bill in preparing breakfast. “Happy for you, Billy. Stan’s a good one.”

“I know.”

Their conversation was concluded at that point, because the other two appeared in the kitchen, Richie skidding across the floor just to scoop Eddie off of his feet. This was responded with a shriek and a _thwack_ as Eddie was quick to hit Richie in the arm, but Stan could see a smile as he tucked his face into Richie’s neck.

“You’re a chef too now, huh?” Stan teases with raised eyebrows, positioning himself beside Bill at the counter.

“You betcha,” Bill hums, snaking his arm around Stan’s waist. Stan smiles, leaning into Bill’s side. “So, you promised me you would show me that show you were talking about last night.”

“I believe my response to your request was ‘maybe’,” Stan says, but he’s smiling. “But for you, I think I can turn it into a yes.” He could get used to this feeling, he thinks. Being with Bill like this. And he does get used to it. They both do.


End file.
